Secondhand Pride
by SoManyPuns
Summary: "You fight like a Galra soldier" Zarkon said and was that...Pride in his voice? Or: Galra teenage rebellion is in a whole different class from humans. Zarkon isn't sure who trained the cub, but they should be proud of themselves.


**Author's Note: This is just crack guys. I have nothing else to tell you. There's no logical reason for me to ever consider this a reasonable thing to spend my time on, but here we are.**

Zarkon remembered it well. The burning rage, the ceaseless desire to gaze out upon something and know that it was _yours_ and that anyone who wanted to take it would have to go through you to do it. A smile almost curled his lips, it had been centuries since that time, but if he thought back, he could remember the first battle he ever fought.

He'd lost, of course, all young cubs loose their first challenge, but the memory of the moment his father's foot had slipped still manages to fill him with fierce delight. He had been bruised and battered by the time he finally gave up, he would have submitted earlier had it not been for that one slip, but in the end, it had been as it was meant to be.

His father had held him down until he'd stopped struggling and then patted him fondly on the head. "You did well, young one." He'd said, pride in his voice, "but you're not ready quite yet."

Most young cubs challenged their fathers, it was only natural, they were the biggest, strongest being a cub would know. Occasionally, a cub would reach the age of challenge and set their sights even higher. They'd challenge a teacher, a commander, any Galra in power had, at one point, been challenged by a cub. It was the way of their race.

If he'd had to bet, he would have thought that the mixed-breed Paladin was too impure to feel the roar of the challenge in his blood, but now Zarkon had the rare opportunity to realize he'd been wrong. He laughed to himself, it has been at least a century since he was this wrong about something.

Apparently, the human blood in this cub made the challenge roar all the louder. They stand, facing one another, the cub in his red armor, though he pilots the black lion now. Another smile twitched at Zarkon's lips, though he knew he should be grave, he knew that the cub wouldn't be satisfied with the red lion for long.

The cub bared his stumpy little teeth and Zarkon has to remind himself that this was serious. This was an important milestone in the cub's life, and he was sharing in it. It was an honor, but the cubs little teeth were very cute. Like a newborn's. Another smile pulled at his lips.

The cub screams and charges, and oh, now he'd done it. The poor thing didn't think he was taking it seriously. Still, at some level, the cub had to acknowledge that this was at least a little ridiculous. You could not challenge the emperor in your first match and expect to win.

He supposed that the cub had been allowed to think that though, what with all the victories. Voltron was partially to blame for that, of course, but the Lions were only as powerful as their Paladins, so he supposed the cub could take partial credit. It must be very exciting, being that age and already having a little war band under your belt.

He would have to talk to his commanders about letting the cub defeat them though. They knew just as well as he did that the first challenge was an important part of learning boundaries in their culture, if a cub was allowed to go tearing through the empire willy nilly, then there'd be a whole battalion of them coming along after him, thinking that they could do the same. Of course, there was also the consideration that the cub was challenging _him_ and the commanders had no right to stand in his way, but still, there had to be some limits.

He won. Of course he won, but the cub put up an admirable fight, for all that he's a fraction of Zarkon's size. These humans had spirit, he'd grant them that, first the champion, and now this little one. Perhaps he will visit their home planet.

The cub is pinned beneath him, breathing hard, blood trailing down his face from a broken nose. He's staring at Zarkon like he expected him to finish him off, and now Zarkon allows himself that smile that's been threaten this whole time. "You did well," He told the cub, and gently patted his head, he has to be careful, the cub is so very small, for all his spirit. "But you're not quite ready yet."


End file.
